Making the Bed
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: It was kinda Ziva's idea, boss. Preep for Undercovers. Ziva likes to plan things out.


Clam is dire: Down into coins.

Anagrams are fun.

Spoilers: Undercovers.

Summary: Pre-ep for Undercovers. Tony said the opening scene was Ziva's idea, and Ziva likes having a plan. Thanks to Jeanne Luz for planting the seed for this one.

* * *

Ziva stood in front of her closet, resting her chin on her fist as she contemplated her choices. She had already packed an obligatory little black dress and a few outfits that an international assassin would wear. She smiled as she pushed the hangers aside in succession; technically speaking, every piece of clothing she owned was something an international assassin _did_ wear. The only difference between herself and the woman whose skin she was about to occupy was government sponsorship.

She forced the uncomfortable thought from her mind as she found what she wanted. A few quick alterations and the straps on the green silk dress would be no more intricate than those on a robe. The thought sparked something else in her mind. It was possible she was going to need some intimate apparel to carry through with her plan. After dropping the dress on the bed, she hurriedly tossed a short robe and some enticing lingerie into her suitcase on top of the things she'd already packed.

Once she'd swept her toiletries into a plastic bag, she dragged her suitcase to the living room along with the dress and sank onto her couch. She took her time inspecting the seams before removing her knife from its sheath. Ever since Jen had called and described the mission to her, she'd been contemplating the potential for some personal undercover work. As far as she knew, Tony wasn't at her level on the spy games, and, even if he did voice some suspicions, she had the feeling that what she was offering would be too tempting to resist. Especially for Tony.

Ziva took a deep breath and cut the threads in a few choice spots. She wasn't sure yet how she would frame the proposal. Jen had already told her they'd be going in blind, with surveillance coming as soon as possible after their arrival. There had been a delay in the communication of the intelligence about the mission resulting in a lack of prep time, so no one at NCIS would be watching them. Tony couldn't use his fear of Gibbs' rules as an excuse. It was possible that someone else could be watching them, but she knew she could use that as a pro rather than a con – they were supposed to be a married couple, after all.

She returned to her bedroom with the dress, hurriedly stripping off her cargo pants and sweater. Though she had a limited amount of time before she had to be at headquarters, she took some time to contemplate her reflection in the mirror. It would be a major blow to her ego if Tony didn't express any interest in her proposition, especially after his willingness to engage her in innuendo-charged banter. In spite of her better instincts, she couldn't deny an attraction to him. Never one to rush into things without a clear line of attack, she wanted to find out exactly what she'd be getting in the event that a platonic relationship became insufficient for her. Or she wanted some no-strings-attached fun with someone she trusted.

She continued staring at her reflection. He'd say yes. Even with his list of conquests and constant bragging the indicated he had no trouble with women, he'd be crazy to say no. After a moment's hesitation, she took off her bra and panties too before slipping into the dress. The silk felt cool against her skin. She arranged the garment carefully and tied the sash, observing the effect as she pulled the two strips of fabric. The dress floated to the floor, leaving her standing naked in front of the mirror.

Perfect.

* * *

Tony clucked his tongue approvingly as he opened the small refrigerator in the back of the long black limousine. He opened one of the bottles and poured it over the ice in the shaker he'd just filled. "Hello, chilled vodka martini."

"You aren't really going to make yourself a cocktail in the back of a moving vehicle, are you?"

"It's not moving yet. You want…" He looked up just in time to see Ziva cross her surprisingly bare legs as she settled herself on the rearmost seat, closing the door behind her. The shaker in his hand ceased all movement. He exhaled with a low whistle as he took in her appearance, so different from what he'd grown used to seeing when she was sitting across from him in the bullpen. Stuck without a response, he groped, finally saying, "You clean up pretty good."

She pulled her wrap more tightly around her shoulders as the limo began to move, pulling out of the NCIS parking lot. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"I just meant that…you normally dress like…well, there's nothing wrong with how you dress, it's just…you don't usually look like that." He gritted his teeth, frustrated with his inanity as he poured half the contents of the shaker into a glass that he handed her. "You look nice, that's all."

To his surprise, she smiled. "Thank you. I like your suit. It's very… elegant."

"Hm." He poured his own drink and placed the shaker in a cup-holder.

"Was that the wrong word?"

"No, it's just not one that I usually associate with anything but architecture . And maybe tigers and jaguars and…all those big cats, I guess."

"Well, I wasn't trying to call you a building or a cat. I just meant that you're well suited, if you'll forgive the pun, to play James Bond for the night." She leaned forward to clink her glass against his before taking a sip. "Not bad. Shaken, not stirred, huh?"

He finally returned her smile. "Now that's a compliment I can get behind. In fact, I guess that makes you my Bond girl. Do you have a whole collection of dresses like that with you for our little assignment?"

"How many suits did you pack?"

"A few, but that's not important. How many sexy outfits am I going to see you parading around in?"

Her eyebrows went up. "Sexy?"

"Uh…" He didn't want to admit anything that was going to get him in trouble. Her expression was almost predatory at the moment. He continued, "Uh…well…"

She moved on easily, ignoring his discomfiture, "You know, I've been thinking. These people we're impersonating – Jean-Paul and Sophie Ranier? They're married. There's a good chance someone will be watching us when we get there. Maybe we should do something that makes us look like a married couple."

Tony was instinctively alarmed, images of the marriages he'd witnessed flashing before his eyes. "You want to have a fight? Okay, but if you plan to throw things, please don't aim for my head."

"I was actually thinking of something more…" she took a long pause, her eyes moving down his body and making him squirm before their gazes locked again, "…conjugal."

His jaw dropped, forcing him to snap it shut as he formulated a response. Had she really just offered…? There was no way…but she had said 'conjugal.' Her dress certainly supported the idea. He could say no, but would he couldn't imagine getting the opportunity handed to him on a silver platter again. The answer came to him suddenly. "Uh, Ziva, I think you mean congenial. Conjugal is…"

"I know what it means," she interrupted. Her smile widened. "Relax, Tony. I'm not suggestion that we have sex, just that we fake it."

"Real married couple, all right," he muttered under his breath. He focused on his glass, doing his best not to wince as he finished it in a single gulp. He tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying. "So you just want to pretend to have sex on the off chance that someone will be watching us?"

"Yes," she replied, as if she had just suggested something innocent about what they should order for lunch. "Up for it?"

"You sure that's how you want to ask?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't get too excited. This is strictly professional."

He considered her carefully. He couldn't say he wasn't curious. "Let me get this straight – we're going to be professional but naked?"

"Of course. We have no way of knowing what, if anything, they'll be able to see, so it has to be realistic."

"How realistic?"

She maintained her calm demeanor, sipping her drink. She left a light lipstick mark on the rim of the martini glass held in her splayed fingers. "Enough for anyone not under the covers to be convinced."

"And…it just has to look good, right? Because if I think someone's watching…"

"It's all for show. You can manage that, right?"

"And maybe more."

"Don't push it," she warned. He wasn't totally convinced the warning overrode the smile still in her eyes.


End file.
